Noel
by labyrinths
Summary: A Beckett and Elizabeth Christmas. Done for a holiday challenge prompt. Oneshot.


**Noel**

**By Labyrinths**

_Author's note: I do not own any of the POTC characters. Written for a Beckett holiday challenge. _

It was snowing and she could not take her eyes off the flakes falling lazily to the ground. It had been so long since she had seen snow. Baking under the hot Caribbean sun for all those years she had forgotten what it was like to have snow for Christmas.

But there she was, her hands pressed against the window on a snowy day in Paris. Yes. Christmas in Paris.

"It is not going to melt if you step away for a minute," her husband said.

She could hear the knowing smirk in his voice even without looking and it made her glance outside even more stubbornly.

Yes, it was a fantasy Christmas in Paris. Unfortunately she would have to spend it with Beckett.

She did not call him by his first name. Why should she? That man had forced his way into her life, forced a marriage upon her for power and money and to outdo Jack Sparrow.

He had not told her this last part but she had the nagging suspicion that the reason that had compelled Beckett to ransom her from Sao Feng had little to do with her father's influence, although he cited this as his main concern, and more with the fact Jack Sparrow seemed to have developed an interest in her.

"The face that launched a thousand ships and vexed Jack Sparrow," Beckett had mockingly said when Mercer had urged her forward, her hands neatly tied and pressed against her skirt. "It's so nice to see you again. We didn't get very well acquainted last time, did we?"

And that was that. A quick wedding later she was Lady Elizabeth Beckett. Her attempts of escape had repeatedly failed and when she realized no rescue was coming, when she realized her life had been inexorably altered, she decided to be as cold and indifferent to this man as humanly possible.

Yet there were moments, stray moments like this, when standing before the window and looking out at the city she felt happy and content and she could almost pretend she was a normal wife in a normal marriage and not an unhappy woman trapped in this cynical and ruthless farce of a union.

But he had broken the illusion by speaking and she turned around to look at him with an exasperated sigh.

"I like it. I have a right to stare at the snow all day long if I want to," she muttered as she moved towards her little mahogany vanity.

"Not all day. I told you. Supper with Durand."

"Is that today?"

"I told you in advance."

"I have nothing to wear. They haven't brought my new dresses yet."

"I'm sure you can find a creative solution."

Elizabeth frowned and stared at Beckett's reflection in the mirror in front of her, then slowly crossed her arms.

"Well, I happen to have a headache and I think it would be incredibly rude of you to drag a woman suffering from a terrible migraine out into the cold."

"It would be best if you come."

"I think it would be best if I went to bed," she answered, grabbing her hair brush and running it through her locks.

"I would rather not have to dress you myself and drag you kicking and screaming through the snow, but if that is what it takes do not doubt for a second I will not do it. I said we would be stopping by and we will."

"I am not going."

He walked across the room with sure steps and she could hear him opening the armoire, rummaging through her clothing. She ignored him as best she could, focusing on her hair instead.

She was taken by surprise when he threw a dress at her and then another and another.

"There. One of those should do."

She kicked the mounds of lace and fabric away and regarded him with a stable gaze.

"That doesn't solve the problem of my headache."

"A glass of brandy would take care of that. Should I pour you one?"

"I would rather stay home tonight."

"And what shall we do for fun my dear? Glare at each other from across the room? No. Intend to have a good time tonight and some dancing and conversation with pleasant people for a change and a pretty, docile wife at my arm."

"You are saying I'm unpleasant?"

"You are the very soul of mirth. Now, the dress."

"I do not wish to go."

"Oh, but I do."

"If you cared for me even in the smallest measure you would listen to what I want every once in a while!"

The words were pouring hot and quick out of her mouth and nothing except her building rage mattered.

"You drag me to these parties where I know no one, where I can not speak with anyone. My French is terrible and yet you leave me alone to gallivant around the room. I'm nothing but a present to show off. Why, it hardly feels like Christmas! Christmas should be a happy time and I'm miserable and I should be enjoying myself. Oh, it should be mistletoes and laughs and ... and you ruin everything!"

He looked at her with what she guessed must be subtle contempt and unable to stand him anymore Elizabeth gathered her skirts and rushed out of the room.

Later, she heard he had left on his own and she had a quiet dinner by herself. Elizabeth thought the food was awful and afterwards lay in bed tossing and turning angrily.

When she heard the door open she quickly closed her eyes, feigning sleep. But then he spoke.

"I know you are awake."

Elizabeth pushed herself up and glared at him as he set a candle on a little table next to the bed.

"Did you have fun?"

"It was entertaining."

"Good," Elizabeth muttered crossing her arms.

"I brought this."

He rummaged through his coat's pockets and held out something for her. Curious, Elizabeth leaned forward and discovered it was a piece of mistletoe with a red ribbon tied around it.

"I thought your complaints about the lack of proper holiday cheer might be alleviated with some small trinket like this."

"Oh. I guess... I guess ... Thank you."

Under the dim light of the candle and without his wig Beckett seemed a great deal more pleasant. Perhaps it was this or the unexpected peace offering that made her smile. She had a sudden impulse and leaning forward gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

He stood still and confused and she blushed immediately, ducking her head like a little girl instead of the married woman she was. But then again, they were not friends and the gesture was unexpected.

"You are welcome," he said with the barest of a smile dancing on his lips.

She just nodded and there was this uncomfortable silence spreading between them so she was glad when he coughed and started taking off his coat, apparently ready to change into his nightshirt and go to sleep.

He looked over his shoulder for a moment, pausing to regard her.

"Perhaps we might stay home tomorrow then? I think I'm the one who has a migraine now."

"You should drink some vinegar."

"Is it better than brandy?"

"I think so."

"We'll see."

Elizabeth pulled at the covers and turned towards the window. The snow kept falling outside, the chilled window and the light of the moon creating interesting patterns. She looked at the piece of mistletoe resting on the palm of her hand one more time before tucking it under her pillow.

- End -


End file.
